


Brother Mine

by thelastbarricade



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mangst, One Shot, Thor (POV), brotherly feels are the worst, fluff (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastbarricade/pseuds/thelastbarricade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You do not let the glance fall away. You hold. You breathe. I am your brother, and in that moment even I know, somehow, you are still mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Mine

  Your arms are crossed; pale, lithe limbs that are still so bruised from shackles and chains. A sigh leaves your lips—lips far too red for this weather, for this occasion.   
  I don’t like the look it leaves on you. I cannot reach out, correct this fluke in your design. I cannot perfect perfection. Even now, as my eyes try in desperation to waver just a glance of yours, I know that. I know that you have been right and I wrong. For the most part.   
  
  
  You are misguided, little one. Little brother. You are lost and deranged and scorned. You were hurt, you were misled. It was of my doing, surely. I did not care enough, try to correct my own wrongs soon enough…And that is where the fault lies. The would-be-King. The exiled Prince. Is that all we are now? Not even brothers? Distant remain your eyes. Dissapointed is the twitch in your jaw even from beneath the steel muzzle that holds your silver tongue.   
  
  I never wanted to dissapoint you. I have already done so much. I have regret in myself, in my actions and in my own failures. Is that not enough? My regret. My humble. My heart.  
” _ **Brother-**_ ” The word you despise most, I know. It tumbles from me, it burns in my chest, against my tongue. I cannot read you, even now. Not like before. I cannot waver the slightest show from those cypress hues. I have not gazed into them for months now.  
” **Loki, please…** ” Calloused hands meet the porcelain flesh of your cheek in soft. How you have hallowed, brother. The childish curves and fullness I once knew have given way to fine, carved lines and sharp edges. Razors. Glass. You have built this foreign being before me. I want my brother. _My_  brother.  
  
  It’s warm, you’re cold. Under my touch, knowing of your true parentage, perhaps I should have expected this, no?   
“ **I will not deny nor accept what the fates have bestowed upon us, Loki. But you are my brother. You will always be** _ **.**_ ” A short grunt is what you give me, a hiss beneath your caged hold at the contact I have given and a rejection I know all too well. I hold your shackles in my fists, the vibration of your subtle resistance aching in my chest. Mjolnir is at my waist as the silence grows between us, suddenly a heavy weight.   
  She held you down at our battle on the bridge. She held you up against the abyss. Held you to me, with me. But she was not enough, nor was I. Never enough.   
  
  Anger builds within me at the silence, at the hatred your harbor. Fire to fire, fuel you are to me. You know that, I know you do. You wrists are easily pulled, gripped in my own by these shackles— _bruised_. You pull away, refusing to meet my eyes and that is enough. Enough to push me to the edge. To turn me. The chains in my fists curl around my wrists, I force them to. I pull you toward me, face to face, muzzled wit to gritted teeth and humbled pride. Your dark eyes have not wavered. You hold to your vow. Silence. Denial. Oh how you’ve gone cold. Oh how I hunger, how I so long, for just one glance…  
  
” **I’ll leave you, then**.” Those words barely rip themselves from my lips. I can feel my voice break, covered only by the soft gruff growl of my own broken will. I have failed, Loki. I have failed you. A small twitch of your hands, wrists still bloodied and bruised beneath the metals hold. You pull away, retreating back to the corner of your chamber bed. Raven hair retreating to the shadows, cypress hues glowing soft against a stiffened silhouette. Brother, oh brother.  
  
  Fists tremble against my sides. I grip Mjolnir for comfort, she provides only guilt. I tried. I will try. Again and again. One glance, one look, not even a word. I will accept what I can get, what I have given. Loki I will wait for you, brother. Wait for you to leave this childish dream, this misguided contempt and illusion a world I know not of has infected you with.  
  
” **Sleep well, brother.** ” My words fall through the soft of lips far too beaten to clench themselves against a bitter jaws hold. I keep the keys to your cell at my wrist, unlatching each lock with a new-found eagerness. You do not want me. I do not know what you desire any more. Power. Title. Immortality in the eyes of those before you.  _Acceptance_. I will not accept this side of you yet, Loki. I will not. You are my brother. My brother.  
  The rattle of chains stops me in mid-step, sunlight pouring into the chamber holdings as the door in my grip pauses in swing. Turning I meet your gaze. That damned gaze I have craved, longed for. From the shadows I can see the tick in your jaw, the amusement in your brow. I hate it. I love it.   
  
“ **You will always be my brother**.” I hold your eyes for a moment longer before nodding the scene away, and it pays. A slow, heavy lidded blink is what you’ve given me in return. Hues dancing about the darkness that nearly swallows them. You do not let the glance fall away. You hold. You breathe. I am your brother, and in that moment even I know, somehow, you are still mine. 


End file.
